When
I was 7 years old, my dad had cheated on my mother again with my best friend's
mother who lived next door to us. This caused my parent's to divorce, and my
life was turned upside down.

The
children in primary school saw me as a sitting duck, so they befriended me and
then bullied me. It was mostly emotional, but some was physical. The taunting
and teasing never seemed to stop, and for a small child this can be dangerous.

One
day, I had taken as much as possible. My "friend" had threatened to
strangle me when we got to break time. I burst into tears and screamed the
place down, demanding to see my mother. After a while I calmed down, but when I
saw her again at break, I turned and ran as fast as I could towards the main
road, so I could get away. Luckily, my very kind head teacher found me and took
me to one side. Sobbing uncontrollably, I told him everything.

By
the time I was 9, things hadn't looked up. I began to look towards suicide, by
cutting myself, burning my fingers under hot water, and various other things. When
my mum found out, she took me to a counsellor. She was shocked that someone as
young as me was doing something like this.

When
I went to secondary school I thought things would get better. New school, new
people, a new start. I was wrong. I started to rebel, realizing that I could,
forming my own opinions and realizing that, yes I loved my mum, but my dad ...
was a whole other story. I hated him for what he did and what he hadn't done. I
started to rebel against him more and more, causing bad arguments. I wasn't
thrilled when I met his new girlfriend, and didn't try in the slightest. He
didn't know what I was afraid of.

When
my dad moved out and lived with the woman he had an affair with, they didn't
get on too well. I will always remember that one day when I was the only kid in
the house and my dad and this woman were having yet another fight. As I crept downstairs
to try and sort it out, I suddenly heard a massive BANG! I stopped dead for a
few seconds, scared out of my wits. My first thought was "oh my god, he
has killed her." I didn't stop to find out. Grabbing my dad's car keys, I
ran out of the house, took my things from his car, and ran over the field and
hid in the bushes.

I
stood in the rain for 3 hours, shivering and crying, telling myself it would be
ok eventually.

Then
things began to get on top of me in my new school. People always have something
to say, moaning and complaining about something, whilst my past still haunted
me. Somebody was always questioning me about my looks, my friends, my hair
colour. I hated it so much. Why couldn't they just be happy with me being me?

I
then had another bombshell dropped on me. I had a brother. I had grown up an
only child, wishing for a sibling, and now I had one, all due to a drunken
fumble that my wonderful dad had on holiday. My mum never liked me putting my
dad down, but she didn't realize how I felt. I was lonely, scared and confused.
I had one off day and it sent me over the edge. I began to cut myself again, all
over my arms and my legs. I was so scared, but I didn't know what to do. The
worst part was I didn't cry. I lost all emotions for months on end, cutting
myself and not feeling anything but sadness, but having nothing to show for it.
My family pushed me over the edge, especially my dad. I still don't understand
why he chose a quickie over his daughter and wife. I might forget the memories,
but my scars won't fade.

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Disclaimer: To the best of my knowledge the child abuse
stories on this site are true. While I cannot guarantee
this, I do try to balance the need for the submitter to be
heard and validated with the needs of my visitors.